


Sick with Regret

by orphan_account



Series: The Adventures of Tim and Renard [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Ememies(?) to Friends(?), Hospitals, Latino Character, Light Angst, hurtfic, some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 19:36:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9622553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Renard visits Timothy in the hospital. He has something important to say.





	

It really is hard for me to understand why he came here. After all, he'd made it pretty obvious that he didn't want me around. It's a bit ironic, really; he avoided me like the plague, but now that I can't go up to him, he decides to come to me! 

I hate being stuck in this bed, in this damned room. Everything is too white. It feels like all the nurses and doctors are pointing at me through the walls, muttering ten-syllable words and diagnosing me with every little thing. 

I can tell that Renard is uncomfortable, too. He's kneading his hands together like he's cold(he always is, especially his shoulders, but that's besides the point). He looks more tired than usual, his too-long spine hunched forward, his dark eyes sunken. 

He thinks I'm asleep. It _is_ early in the morning, after all. It must be around two or three a.m., if the lack of sunlight in the window is anything to go by. I can't sleep, though; it's hard to rest if you can't even lay on your side. That's the case for me, anyway. Nonetheless, I continue to pretend in the hopes that he might leave me be. I don't want to talk to him right now. 

Renard hasn't moved from his seat in a while. He can't. Visiting hours had ended around eight p.m., so I know that he shouldn't even be here. He probably broke in, the brute. I briefly wonder how he got in, but quickly decide it doesn't matter. I hope a nurse comes in to check on me soon. I know it won't happen. 

Renard, to my surprise, soon starts to move. I think that perhaps he's finally getting frustrated with me and leaving, as he usually does. He shifts his weight to his feet, making as if to stand. 

But, he stays seated. Darn it all. 

Instead he stays bent like a gymnast, head almost to his knees. He...He actually looks pretty wrecked. Nothing compared to me and my purpling bruises, though. I don't feel too bad. He's the one who screwed up, not me. 

His foot starts to move, causing his entire leg to bounce up and down. Which is fine and dandy, by the way, until his three-legged chair starts to move, banging repeatedly on the ground. What's funny is that he broke it off when he was here last night, by doing exactly what he's doing now. I was pretending to sleep then, too. 

I let this go on for a while, hoping that he may get worked up and leave like before. The chair doesn't break any more. He keeps fidgeting. His mouth is a grim line. I still don't feel bad. 

"Hey, amigo, can you quit that racket?" Damn, I said that out loud. Renard looks up at me, eyes blown wide as saucers. I guess I can't keep pretending. No fun. 

* * *

 

Renard stares at Timothy for a long while, his expression going from grief to shock to restrained nervousness. He licks his lips before speaking. 

"Good morning, lardass." Nice. 

Timothy rolls his eyes, rubbing the fake sleep out of them. He tries to stretch, flinching when he remembers his broken arm. 

"First you wake me up, quite rudely might I add, then you insult me?" There is little humor in his voice, "What a gentleman you are. Now, would you _politely_ tell me why you're here?" 

The taller boy rubs his hands together, leaning back in his crooked chair in an attempt to not look terrified. 

"Uh, yeah, about that," he starts, not quite sure how to proceed. He hadn't really thought this far ahead, and Timothy is looking far less like Timothy than he expected. It makes him increasingly nervous. 

Timothy scoffs, letting out a chuckle. He lays back down. He can't roll over, so he settles for turning his head away. 

"If you don't even know why you're here, would you mind leaving?" 

" _No!_ I mean, yes!" Renard was done with that. He doesn't want to keep running away. Not anymore, never again. 

He stands, but instead of leaving, he reaches into his back pocket. He pulls out a crumpled piece of paper, unfolding it so harshly that it's in danger of being torn. Timothy turns towards Renard once again, his curiosity quite honestly peaked. It looks like he actually _is_ here for something, not just to wallow in guilt and self-pity. 

Eventually the paper is opened, Renard letting out a frustrated yet triumphant huff. He twists his wrist around so Timothy can get a good look at it. 

At the top, in all capital letters, are the words "CLUB ACTIVITY SIGNUP", beneath which are multiple blank lines that have yet to be filled. 

Timothy sits up and holds out his good arm to take the form from Renard, looking it over with a furrowed brow. He opens his mouth to say something, slowly turning his head towards the other boy, his eyes not moving from the sheet of paper in his hand. However, before he can say a word, Renard decides to speak. 

"I want to start a club." 

Timothy gives him a strange look, one brow raised. His shoulders hunch, because that's the closest he can get to crossing his arms. 

"Well, good for you, I guess," he says, "Now, please, go away. I'd rather not deal with you rubbing your bullshit in my face. It's pretty gross." 

"No, you don't-!" Renard throws his hands up in the air, his anger rising. But, he doesn't want to explode again. He takes a few deep breaths, steadies his voice, tries to calm down. He succeeds this time. 

"I want you to be the co-president of the club!" 

This time, Tim's eyes make direct contact with Renard's. His mouth opens and closes, reminding Renard of a goldfish. Tim doesn't seem to know how to feel. His face goes from shocked to angry to confused to delighted in about two seconds. He's full-on beaming, making the sick room glow with a bright, steady light. 

"That's great, Ren!" He bounces excitedly in his bed, his freckled nose scrunched up in glee. "Oh, this is going to be so much fun! I'm so excited!" 

Renard lets out a bewildered huff of a laugh, not expecting the smaller boy to forgive him so easily. Then again, Tim had always been rather laidback and optimistic. Renard isn't quite sure what he's getting himself into. But, if Tim keeps smiling at him like that, he's not sure he cares much. 

**Author's Note:**

> I love my boys! Things are starting to look up! ...Or are they?
> 
> Feedback is greatly appreciated!
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this installment in the adventures of Tim and Renard!


End file.
